


the end of the world

by Astrid_Goes_For_A_Spin



Series: Iris Week 2020 [7]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 2020 protests, BLM protests, Black Lives Matter Protests, Gen, Iris and Team Flash are out helping their community, Joe is a singer not a cop, Journalist Iris West, Protests, corona pandemic 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24964867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrid_Goes_For_A_Spin/pseuds/Astrid_Goes_For_A_Spin
Summary: Iris Week 2020 Day 7: Iris in a world without superheroes.She’s technically a reporter for CCPN, but this is not exactly her job. In fact, it’s possible Iris could lose her job for publishing the footage she’s taking. But if it’s the end of the world, Iris wants to make sure she’s a part of making the new one a good one, entry-level salary be damned.Iris and Team Flash and the 2020 protests.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris West, Iris West & Wally West
Series: Iris Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799020
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	the end of the world

**Author's Note:**

> When I considered this prompt, all I could imagine was Iris out there right now. She would be reporting. She would be marching. She would be organizing and keeping people safe and fighting to make her world a better place. 
> 
> I have not attended protests nor am I black, but I hope research, betas, and sensitivity readers have made this piece as respectful and loving as it can possibly be as we close out our Iris Week, the first appreciation week our awesome black femme leading lady has ever had.

“This is Iris West. I’m on the scene of the protests at 14th and Shultz.”

In the dim lighting from the occasional lamppost, Iris hopes her cell camera can pick up what it’s pointing at. She’s never been a videographer, but these days, she’s just having to make do.

“As you can see,” Iris narrates, both hands on her phone, “police have been lined up in front of the courthouse since I got here. Periodically protesters will get close and ask the officers to kneel with us-”

It’s quiet for a few minutes while Iris describes the situation. She’s technically a reporter for CCPN, but this is not exactly her job. In fact, it’s possible Iris could _lose_ her job for publishing the footage she’s taking. But if it’s the end of the world, Iris wants to make sure she’s a part of making the new one a good one, entry-level salary be damned.

Iris tightens her ponytail, yanks her knit hat lower, and double-checks the mask covering her face. At her side, Wally is silent and similarly attired: all in black, wearing a beanie and a mask that serves a dual purpose – protecting his identity as well as observing virus safety.

He nods at the stairs to a small cut-through. The street is filled with chanting and prayer, but it seems like if there’s going to be a moment to rest tonight, now’s the time. Iris follows him, the eye of her camera always watching.

Once they pass off the main street, it’s like a different world. The alley is full of life: there’s some soft music playing, and two boys are showing dance moves to a small, admiring crowd. Iris makes sure to capture this on camera too – the kind of life the protests are protecting.

In front of a miniscule synagogue, a first-aid station has been set up with folding tables. Crates of water lurk on the ground for both hydration and eyewashes. This is where they find Caitlin, Cisco, and Barry.

Caitlin is gently applying alcohol and Neosporin to a little girl’s scraped arm. “I don’t have any fun band-aids,” Caitlin tells her seriously, while the girl’s father shakes his head to indicate it’s not that important. “But!” Caitlin produces a few other boxes of band-aids and holds them out. “I have every flesh-colored band-aid _there is_.”

The little girl’s smile grows, and Iris is so glad she caught this on camera. The beads in her hair twists clink together as she rips into a box of band-aids, selecting one that is so dark it’s almost ebony. Caitlin obligingly sticks it over the scrape and tenderly rolls her sleeve back down.

“Thank you, Dr. Snow,” the dad says, and Caitlin sends him off with a wave and a “Be careful!” Iris bookmarks the timestamp quickly, before she forgets, so she can go back later and edit out Caitlin’s name. Just because her journalistic ethics demand her transparency doesn’t mean it’s not a risk. The friends she’s filming all have covered faces and don’t use names on camera.

On the other side of the first-aid station, Cisco is taking apart someone’s phone. “If you don’t make these adjustments,” he instructs a group of college boys, wagging a screwdriver, “this phone is sending all your data – location, camera, Siri, anything not encrypted end-to-end – to anybody who wants it. That is not what we are after, fellas.”

“The first-aid station is both for medical help and tech support,” Iris informs the camera. “Fortunately, the medical side has been slow tonight, right?”

Caitlin nods. “Some scrapes and bruises. Nobody really hurt. One woman needed help adjusting her new insulin pump. We have treatments ready for tear gas and other chemical irritants, and emergency supplies for triaging more serious injuries.”

“What about you?” Iris angles the camera over to Cisco.

“These young gentlemen are woefully unprepared to fight the good fight in the age of Big Brother,” Cisco tells the camera. “That’s why I’ve got a quick setup here so if you did bring your phone tonight, we can make sure your identity is protected and your data can’t be used against you.”

Wally is sitting with a groan at this point, tucking a double-sided sign – **WE’RE NOT FREE TILL WE’RE ALL FREE** – **WE MARCH FOR POLICE REFORM. SAY HER NAME** – under the table while he peels back the foil on a granola bar.

“You see what Iris is doing?” Iris hears, and turns her phone to the sound of Barry’s voice. He’s also set up by Caitlin, with a stack of printed flyers she helped him write earlier detailing the legalities of recording in Missouri. “That’s about getting information out. But even if she recorded a crime, it wouldn’t always be considered admissible in court, even if she was an eyewitness. If there’s something they can do to discredit your evidence, they will. You should definitely record any interactions you see happening-”

“And lastly at our first-aid station we have a crash course in legal advice for how best to use phone cameras either at the protests or in your daily life…” Iris explains, zooming in on the info sheet. 

The noise from the street is starting to get lower. Wally gets up and heads to the mouth of the alley, then reports to the camera as if it’s second nature: “Looks like people are starting to head home for the night, numbers of people passing are slowing down.”

Iris knows it’s her obligation to stay until the last, and record until the streets are empty and the danger is gone. And she will. She checks the organizing info through the encrypted app Barry’s friend Felicity coded for the occasion, and it shows the same information: people are starting to trickle out.

Muting her camera for a moment, she asks her family, “Have any of you seen my dad?”

Her timing is so impeccable that she almost didn’t even need to ask. Barry smiles widely at her and Cisco points without looking. The faint music the boys were dancing to when she got here is ending, and Iris hears a familiar noise: a soundcheck. Iris hastily unmutes. 

Any minute now Iris will head back out there with Wally and record the protesters leaving for the night. But for now, Iris turns her phone toward her dad – similarly masked and beanie-d – standing on a little step with a mic and an old, cracked amp, and closes her eyes as he begins to sing.


End file.
